To Be a Man

Today while I was cooking tofu and broccoli, I wished I was a man for the first time.

Through all the annoyingness of life as a woman, I don’t think I’ve ever wished I were a man before, but for some reason, stirring broccoli florets in salt and water, I did.

I suppose it had something to do with the seeming simpleness of the “male” tasks Nick was performing outside: bringing out the garbage, recycling, and watering the garden, while I tried to creatively cook the same thing I always cook. I had just gotten Cole to nap and Genny was in the living room sulking and moping for some unknown reason.

The thought just flashed through me all at once, “I wish I were a man and I could go to work, earn the bacon, come home and have my dear wife cook for me and watch the children.”

I thought it a curious thought as soon as it passed through me. I guess I was just feeling stressed and frustrated because I didn’t have time to do any creative work today at all. I so wanted to write and draw and study, but there simply was not time.

That is not true. During Cole’s long nap, I too napped instead of working, but he was up twice last night and then awake at six, so I was desperate for a rest.

I tell myself that I shouldn’t let tiredness be an excuse, but I know if I push myself, I end up sick.

Not having enough time makes me crazy. It makes me want to be a man for a brief moment, but then I remember how hard my husband works. It’s not like he’s rolling in time either.

Sigh. The struggle to have it all continues.